Masquerade
by Amy the W
Summary: After S3 in Tribeworld, two new tribes from across the ocean have arrived. Can they be trusted? Can they be loved?


Hundreds of miles away, across an ocean, there was a different city, different people, different tribes.... even a different virus.  
  
In an old office building in the city, a girl sat in a waiting area to meet with a member of another tribe. It was just like waiting for a doctor's appointment... only this doctor would prescribe either life or death....  
  
***  
  
  
Her name was Merc, co-leader of the Monts. She had short brown hair, olive skin, and wide, eager green eyes. A mountain was painted on her left cheek, the symbol of her clan. She wore black capri pants and a backless blue shirt. Before the clothes had fit her nicely, showing off her athletic figure, but now they hung loosely on her thin frame. She was hardly more than skin and bones, and you could see the ribs of her back. She tapped her fingers nervously on the arm of the metal chair. The secretary, dressed in same military uniform as everyone else in the building, sitting behind the desk gave her a dirty look and Merc folded her hands in her lap. Normally she would have made some sort of snide remark or gave the receptionist her own look, but today she had to be on her best behavior, for the good of her clan.  
  
At long last, someone from inside the office called "Next!" and the secretary nodded at Merc to go in. Merc walked to the office door, knees shaking, and took a deep breath before pushing the door open.  
  
A man sat behind a desk, looking at some papers. A small name plate in front of him read "General Scott." Merc breathed a sigh of relief when she realized that she would be facing an old friend. Scott joined the Technos soon after the virus hit, before Merc and her best friend Romy formed their clan, the Monts. He looked the same as he did back in high school, except for a few small changes -- he now had a buzz cut and the muscles he got from playing football for all those years bulged beneath army fatigues instead of a football jersey. Scott looked very serious, he had a lot of responsibilities now and they were about to discuss a very serious matter, but Merc couldn't help teasing her old friend a bit, to lighten the situation and maybe help her cause.  
  
"Hey General Scott, forgot your last name or something?" she said, cracking a wide grin. Scott looked up and stared at her. Merc knew what he was thinking -- the tomboy he once knew was wasting away.  
  
"Merc, you're skin and bones!" he said in an astonished whisper. "When was the last time you ate something?"  
  
"This morning...." she replied, "...if you count water as food now." That was not uncommon anymore, having only water for a meal. The virus had destroyed everything, and even the fresh water couldn't last forever.  
  
Scott cleared his throat and looked down at his muscular arms and sturdy body. "We've got army rations," he tried to explain. "They've got lots of protein."  
  
Merc nodded and kept her mouth shut, determined not to ruin the meeting by laying into him about the food. She couldn't believe that he would do something like that while others were starving. 'I'm a such hypocrite!' Merc thought. 'After all, I'm here aren't I? Techno central.'   
  
"Please sit down," Scott continued gesturing to a chair facing his desk. Now he spoke with a grave tone, and the real meeting began. "We all know why you'd want to come to the new country, the real question is why should we let you?"  
  
This was the moment Merc had been waiting for. "My clan and I are desperate to get out of here, and we will be forever grateful if the Technos took us to the New Country, and we are willing to work for it. How long will those army rations last, Scott? A few months, a year if you stretch? And what does eating the same, bland, army rations day in, day out, do to the moral of the troops? I bet they'd give anything to have *real* food. And we can give it to them. The Monts will get a farm in the New Country. We'll grow food for ourselves, make us nice and strong for working, and we'll a give portion of the crops to your army."  
  
"Is that it?" Scott asked, hardly impressed with Merc's offer. "I know your clan, Merc, it's the biggest one left. The amount of food you could spare would hardly feed an army."  
  
"Okay, that's not all we're willing to offer. Taking over a country isn't easy, and it's not like the people over there are going to be very welcoming. You're gonna need a safe place to stay, get some food, make plans, take care of your wounded, and you don't want to be running back and forth to your headquarters when you're bleeding all over the place or trying to stay hidden -- not very conspicuous. We'll let the soldiers stay at our farm, getting good food and rest before battle. One of the members of our clan was in nursing school when the virus hits. She can help them be back on their feet in no time. We'll all do our part to make a good home in the New Country, and if that means helping the Technos out, we'll do it."  
  
When Merc finished her spiel, Scott stood and walked around the desk to face her more closely. He looked even more serious now, if that was possible. Merc clenched her teeth to prepare for the verdict.  
  
"There's something else we'd like you to do, Merc," he said gravely. "And it's not as simple as handing out food for bandaging a few cuts. Are you willing to put yourself in incredible danger, to risk you life, for your clan? Will you put everything on the line for the Technos?" 


End file.
